


come what may

by lannisqueen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Beautiful Golden Fools, F/M, I'm going to be adding more relationships and character tags as I go, Moulin Rouge AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:00:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22230703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannisqueen/pseuds/lannisqueen
Summary: The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister
Comments: 59
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO DARLINGS! I know that I owe you all an update on my other fic, but I couldn't get this au out of my head, so here you are! I hope that you enjoy it!

“An elephant?” Cersei asked, eyeing the staircase that was concealed in the great beast’s leg. The few bags that they’d brought with them were pooled at her feet. They’d taken only the most important of things, only enough so that Jaime could carry things and still catch Cersei each time that she had doubts and tried to turn back and run to the safety and the security of Casterly Rock. Even now, especially now, Cersei considered going back to the surety of the Rock. At the Rock she’d have had a dozen servants to bring her bags wherever she wished. She could feast on what she liked or drink the finest of wines. Instead, she and Jaime were forced to budget every penny that they had.

At least Jaime had found a job. One which was giving them a place to stay near the place Jaime was meant to guard apparently. “You still haven’t told me what it is that you’ll be doing. Nor why we have to live in an elephant.” Cersei’s brow arched with the question once Jaime had reappeared after bringing some of their things up the stairs and into the elephant. 

“Because you like elephants.” Jaime dodged the question by kissing her cheek. He had been secretive about his new job, and Cersei didn’t like it. He’d gone to work the previous evening, leaving Cersei alone in the room that they’d rented upon arriving in Paris. When he returned shortly after dawn, there had been burgundy lipstick on his collar and his clothes stank of booze. His breath hadn’t though. When he’d kissed her as he slid into the bed she’d been trying to sleep in, she realized that Jaime himself hadn’t been drinking. She didn’t know why he stank of booze though. 

He’d yet to sleep and it was showing as he slowly dragged the bags upstairs. And if he wouldn’t answer Cersei’s questions, she would find answers herself. She’d considered following him to work the previous evening, but she feared that if she left their things unattended, she’d return to find them stolen. They had so little, Cersei wouldn’t allow them to be left with nothing aside from the clothes on their backs. 

Her green eyes turned and watched the blades of the great red windmill churn through the early morning air. It was such an odd thing, a windmill in the middle of the city, but then, everything about Paris seemed strange to Cersei. Cersei was used to garnering a good deal of attention everywhere she went, but here it was not so much her beauty that turned heads, but the oddness of her clothing compared to what other women walking through the streets were wearing. She didn’t like it. It seemed as though they were mocking her with their gaze at times, looking down on her. Meanwhile, everything that Cersei wore cost more than each of them likely earned in a year or more. Yet, they still thought her the odd one. If she had her way, they would have moved on from here, they’d planned on doing just that until Jaime had gotten this job. The job that he refused to tell her anything about.

Jaime’s hand on the small of her back interrupted her thoughts about the strange city. “Come upstairs, Cersei.” her twin pulled her back into his arms. “We’ll sleep. I know that you were just pretending to be asleep when I got back this morning. I bet you were too mad at me to sleep.” He was trying to coax her with both word and action toward the elephant. “I can make it up to you. Let me make it up to you.” He whispered. One of his hands squeezed at her side where her waist tapered in and he began nuzzling the side of her neck. “Come upstairs and come to bed with me.” 

Cersei swatted his hand away, and her eyes scanned the courtyard. There was a black door between the red walls of the building atop which the windmill sat. Jaime would never let her anywhere near it, but he couldn’t stop her once he was tucked into bed and asleep as he so clearly craved. “Is there even a bed up there?” Hopefully it would be soft and keep Jaime deeply in sleep’s embrace whilst Cersei went out to explore what lay behind the door.

“Why don’t you come upstairs and see everything that’s up there?” Jaime purred. This time, when his hands reached out for her, she let him pull her back toward the elephant’s door. The stairs were silent as they ascended, and highly polished, which was hardly what Cersei had been expecting. If they were being housed for free, Cersei expected that they’d have little more than a closet to live in, but when Jaime opened the door at the top of the stairs, it revealed a large room, richly decorated in reds and golds, and figurines that Cersei had never seen before. “Red, gold, elephants, a big bed, two doors that lock, what more could we ask for?” Cersei could feel the smile on Jaime’s lips as he kissed the side of her neck. “Doesn’t that big bed look so inviting? Don’t you want to come and lay down on it with me?”

Once again, Cersei let herself be pulled. She didn’t want to appear too eager to join him, lest he get suspicious and guess her plans to go off and explore. Though there was much to explore in this room as well. She knew, instinctively, that if she were to take off her shoes, her feet would feel nothing but soft, plush carpet beneath her toes. “I was expecting a barracks. This is…” She didn’t know what it was. There were arches within the room that came to a point in the middle like the hearts that Jaime used to carve around their initials on trees near the Rock. “It’s a bit gaudy.” Cersei answered.

Jaime was undaunted by her response. “We’ll make it our own. Come feel the bed.” he insisted as he pulled her toward the bed. The bed at the Inn had sank when they’d laid on it, as if it was filled with nothing but air, but this bed, this bed actually had some strength to it. It actually reminded her of her bed at the Rock. 

“Are you going to tell me about this mysterious new job?” This was his last chance to tell her before she took it upon herself to find out. He could come clean now and she’d leave the black door alone. 

Of course he didn’t. Jaime sighed and looked uncomfortable. “It’s good money. Really good money. But it’s not a place I ever want you to go Cersei. All I do is keep drunks in line. It’s a waste of me-” Jaime, who’d been born for much more would see so much as being beneath him, just as his twin did. But though both had a certain and significant pride, they would sacrifice their pride if it meant they’d survive. Better to fight another day than to wither and die. Jaime may have thought this work beneath him, but he would do it, especially if it kept Cersei from having to sacrifice her pride. It was always easier to sacrifice when doing so meant that the other twin was left intact, whole, unsullied by sacrifice of their pride. “Cersei, please just trust me. I’ve gotten us this far. Please trust me. Where I work---it’s not the place for you. Please just come to bed.”

Cersei tensed at his words. She could easily have hurled accusations at him that he wished to lock her away in a tower as Tywin did. He’d balk at that. Cersei could hear the arguments that he would make, by now she knew his part of that discussion as well as she knew her own lines in it. It would come down to his pleas that she trust him. Trust did not come easily for her, perhaps even more so when it came to her twin. They were supposed to be the same. They were supposed to be one soul in two bodies. They were meant to be one, but Jaime was withholding, preventing them from being truly complete. Now Cersei had to keep secrets from him in turn. She had to go and see what lay beyond the black door. But first, she needed Jaime to sleep. 

“I’m only coming to bed because I’m tired.” she replied as her hand struggled for the zipper of her dress. Jaime rose to help her, but she waved him off. He would be suspicious if she was too willing and eager to join him on the bed or allow his hands on her. Cersei would never make it to the black door to find answers if Jaime suspected that she was simply placating him. Better that he believe that she intended to argue with him more once they’d both had a chance to rest. 

After struggling with her dress, Cersei rejoined him on the bed wearing only her slip. Jaime immediately tried to pull her against him, but she pushed him away. “You don’t get to hold me when you’re keeping secrets.” she snapped at him. He groaned in frustration, and rolled on to his back to stare at the ceiling. For awhile, they were silent, the only sound in the room was their breathing and the occasional noise from passersby on the street. Then, Cersei noticed the way that Jaime’s breathing had changed. It was slower, deeper now, and a clear sign that he’d fallen into a deep sleep. 

Cersei slowly slid off the bed, being careful not to disturb him. She struggled with the long, grey dress once more, freezing when Jaime twitched in his sleep. With bated breath, she waited to see if he would reach for her and stir when he found her side of the bed empty, but Jaime rolled over to the other side of the bed, away from where Cersei would have been. It would be a while until he woke, giving Cersei plenty of time to explore.

She crept down the stairs, as quietly as she could and made her way to the door. It was unlocked, which should have struck her as odd, but her curiosity and irritation at Jaime concealing something from her had blinded her to potential obstacles beyond her twin’s secrecy. 

The door opened to a nearly empty ballroom. It was unlike anything that Cersei had ever seen. There were theater boxes, like the ones that Cersei had sat in when Tywin took her to see operas, but instead of overlooking a stage, they all overlooked the vast ballroom floor. The room was empty, apart from an older man with wrinkled hands sweeping up trash that littered the floor. It took a few moments for him to notice Cersei as she took in the great room. He spoke to her, but his French was different than the French that Cersei’d learned from her tutors. It took her a moment to grasp what he was asking in that time, and in those few moments, the man’s expression had changed from polite to dismissive. “Parlez vous anglais?” It was the phrase that Cersei knew best. 

The man looked her up and down, seeming to study her clothing in particular, earning more irritation from Cersei. Her clothes would have been considered very fine had they been in England still, but here everyone seemed to think that she was out-of-fashion or stiff in them. Still, whatever the man was thinking, he held up a finger in a universal gesture for her to wait. 

The sound of the broomhand hitting the floor echoed in the large room as the man walked away. Cersei took the time alone to inspect the room further. There were several hallways that splintered off of what Cersei decided was some sort of dancefloor. Above the grandest of these enterways was a board with the words “cancan” written across it in a bold font. Cersei didn’t know what that was any more than she knew what this place was. It was some sort of dancehall, she decided, but it was unlike any of the dancehalls that she and Jaime sometimes snuck away to back home. 

Cersei was not left alone with her thoughts for long. A tired looking, portly man came toward her. He looked apprehensive, checking behind her, as if expecting to find another person standing behind her. “Well, I see no manservant here to threaten me, but you’re a bit overdressed if you’re here to audition, darling.” the man said, looking Cersei up and down. “What can I possibly help you with, dear?”

“Audition?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She is mine and none of you shall have her._ he thought to himself as the men whose gazes his sister had drawn returned to their dining partners instead.

Jaime Lannister’s consciousness teetered between sleep and waking. Sleep made a move to claim him by thrusting his arm forward to reach for Cersei and pull her warmth against him, but when his fingers tangled in the sheets rather than her golden curls, waking won the war to claim him. He sat up in and then all but bolted to the door, nearly tripping over his shirt which lay on the floor. When he was about halfway there, he realized that the chain was still done, locking the door from the inside. Relief washed over him as he realized that Cersei had to still be inside the room somewhere. 

His body slumped slightly as it adjusted to the spike and immediate dissipation of his adrenaline. “Do I strike you as the type to abscond in the middle of the night?” Cersei’s voice came from the other side of the room. When Jaime turned to face her, his breath caught in his throat. She was framed by the afternoon sunlight streaming through the floor to ceiling curved window. It took his breath away. 

“Well, I’ve woken up to you staring at your bags as if you’re contemplating packing them.” Jaime replied once he’d recovered his breath. He crossed the room to her and took her into his arms. She was stiff when he held her, but Jaime knew ways to soften her. He placed kisses to her cheek and to the side of her neck. “The only thing that scares me in this world is the idea that I might not wake up to you in the morning.” he whispered. And it was true. Jaime would work where he needed to in order to put a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. He’d stay up all night if need be to protect her. Whatever needed to be done would be done so long as he had her. “You gave me a fright being all the way over here.” 

Cersei turned her head so that their eyes could meet. “Well, you frighten me when you keep secrets.” she answered, and tried to pull away from her, though Jaime wouldn’t let her. 

“Please, Cersei, don’t.” He would have done anything to see to it that she was happy, but he didn’t really want to tell her what he did. He told himself that there was honor in it. He was the one that protected the dancers when patrons took matters too far, when they went beyond the comfort of the dancers. There was honor in that. He told himself that there was. But there was still something about it that made him feel ill. The women were selling themselves because they had to do so. And Jaime was there to try to keep them safe as they let the men that reminded him so much of his father’s supposed friends paw at them. Jaime didn’t want Cersei to know that he merely stood by and allowed it to happen. He wanted her to think of him as brave and bold and gallant, not as someone that stood outside a door as women listening to the grunts of some wizened old man as he pretended that he was still a youth at his peak. “It’s not a secret. It’s just not interesting. But it gets us this house. And soon, soon, I might be able to buy you something nice.” Or buy them wedding rings. One of Joanna’s rings was hidden in his bags, another secret Cersei would no doubt insist, but Jaime was waiting for the right time to give it to her. Still, that would only be an engagement ring. He wanted them to have wedding rings that would match. Cersei would like that, he hoped.

It was just a matter of getting her to that point.

Jaime nuzzled the side of her neck and tried to massage at the tops of her shoulders to coax her into a better mood or at the very least distract her before this issue had a chance to take root and become some sort of an impasse. “Do you want to come roll around that big bed or _ours_?” He hoped that she would. Jaime would have happily spent time between her legs until she was in a better mood. Nothing would have pleased him more. Alas, Cersei appeared unreceptive, and short of throwing her on the bed and starting without her cooperation, Jaime didn’t see that changing.

Nonetheless, his fingers still massaged at her shoulders. “Or perhaps a nice meal? When was the last time we had a proper feast?” A meal like they would have had at the Rock. When they’d left, he’d promised that he would give her the world. Lately, he’d done little to deliver on that promise. Now he could though. He’d money in his pocket to buy her a feast if she wished it. Perhaps then she’d be more receptive to letting him feast on her. 

He slipped his hands from her shoulders and brought one of hers up to his lips to kiss. “You can’t tell me that you’re not hungry.” Jaime continued. He kissed her hands again and started to pull her toward the door. 

“I want wine.” Cersei’s tone still carried some coolness to it, but to Jaime’s relief, she allowed herself to be pulled to his side and even slipped her arm through his. 

Jaime couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps starting off his day with wine rather than breakfast was less than ideal, but having slept the better part of the day away, he could hardly expect to be served eggs and a side of sausage. “I’ll buy you the most expensive bottle on the menu.” Or close to it. If he ensured that they didn’t go anywhere too lavish, they would be fine. Jaime hated that he couldn’t give her the best of everything, but he was able to offer her more today than he had been the previous day, and it was a start. Tomorrow he would be able to offer her more. Perhaps it was not the Rock. Perhaps they would never have the wealth of their family name, but Jaime would do everything that he could in order to give her as much as possible in order to make up for the Lannister power that she’d given up. There was no one but Jaime to jump when she gave orders, and Jaime knew that his twin missed that. Perhaps he’d let her boss him around later. If it got her into bed with him, it would be well worth it. Anything to end the bit of a dry spell they’d been having. When they’d run off, Jaime had imagined endless nights of love making in whatever hovel they found themselves in, but Cersei was more reluctant than he’d hoped when she had a lumpy mattress against her back. The bed at the elephant was comfortable though. Hopefully some wine, a bit of doting, and a comfortable bed would have her in more receptive spirits. “Maybe if you’re nice to me, I’ll buy you _two_ bottles.” Two bottles would either put her in a better mood or coax her to row with him until she got the matter out of her system.

 _“If I’m nice to you?”_ Cersei replied in that pointed tone that always made him smirk. The expression spanned his features as he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. 

He loved that he could do this. There they were, in the middle of the street and Jaime could pull her toward him and kiss her cheek in addition to her hands. He could kiss her wherever he wanted and no one minded. In fact, some people even smiled to see him kiss her. “Yes, if you’re nice to me.” He murmured against her hair. “Perhaps even smile at me the way that old bag in black smiled when she saw me kissing you just now.” 

“Oh so you’re paying attention to other women when you’re kissing me?” She was still using that tone and it caused Jaime’s smirk to widen to a grin.

“Well, she smiled at me and you haven’t as of yet.” He pecked the corner of her lips where he hoped to see them tick up in a smile. Gods, he loved that he could kiss her like this. Whenever he wanted. She was his to kiss and hold whenever he wanted. Wherever he wanted. His. Only his. “People smile at us when I kiss you, Cersei. _They smile._ ” The corner of her mouth twitched, as if she was about to smile but instead maintained her stubborn refusal to do so. “Cersei. They smile at us.”

The was a second twitch, but Cersei still refused to yield. “I want to eat here.” she declared, stopping in front of a cafe that radiated decadent smells. Jaime only nodded, and casually glanced at the prices on the menu. Everything was easily within his budget to his relief. “Why are you looking at the menu?” 

“Because I want to see if they have bouillabaisse. I’ve heard that we need to try it.” Jaime covered quickly. It wasn’t exactly a lie. He’d heard that they needed to try the dish. It was loaded with different types of seafood, things that were unavailable in Lannisport, no matter the price. This would be something that they couldn’t get at the Rock, even with all of the Lannister money. Sure, he’d been told that the dish would be better and fresher in the south, but he was assured that he could get a good version in Paris. He prayed that Cersei enjoyed it as some of the patrons at the Moulin Rouge promised. If Cersei liked it, Jaime would make sure to point out to her that it was something that she could never have gotten had they not left the Rock. He would take every chance he could to point out that things were better here, that the Lannister name and life was not a ship meant to give them safe passage to their happiness, but rather an anchor which would drag them to the bottom of the sea until they drowned. 

Cersei seemed to accept his cover story. She nodded once and then waited for Jaime to open the door for her. Once he had, she swept in and immediately drew attention. Jaime slipped a hand around her waist as they waited for a table and kissed her lips gently. _She is mine and none of you shall have her._ he thought to himself as the men whose gazes his sister had drawn returned to their dining partners instead. 

He rubbed in small circles at her back until they were shown to a table and only broke contact with her to pull out her chair and then push her in. “You love this, don’t you?” Cersei asked him as the hostess departed. 

“I love _you._ ” Jaime corrected. 

Finally, there was a smile on her face, though she was trying to conceal it with a dismissive roll of her eyes. “You love _me_ ”

“And _you_ love _me._ ” he countered with a grin. 

“Not when you lie to me.” She succeeded in banishing her smile, and Jaime couldn’t help but feel that she’d done it intentionally to prevent herself from from surrendering to the moment.

Jaime’s smile faded. “Not this again, Cersei.” he sighed. He’d been having such a good time on their walk here, but as ever, Cersei remained stuck on something small. Jaime reached for her hand and covered it with his. He took a few moments, tracing her fingers with his as he tried to stow the brewing irritation that he felt at her constant need to question him over this rather than simply enjoy it. Though truthfully, his irritation had much to do with the fact that she was right. He was hiding the truth of what he did because it was hardly the sort of thing that a gallant knight from the stories that their mother used to read them would do. How could he admit such a shameful thing to his twin? “Cersei, I’m not lying to you.”

“You’re keeping secrets. It’s the same thing.”

“As if you’ve never kept a secret from me?” That annoyed her, but the waiter arrived, asking 'if they had any questions or if they were ready to order, and thereby offering them both a brief reprieve before their tempers truly had a chance to ignite. Jaime made a point to order their best bottle that would pair well with the bouillabaisse, a choice which earned the approval of their waiter, or perhaps he’d simply been pleased that Jaime’s French was more than passable. 

The waiter departed with a nod, leaving the twins as alone, or rather, as alone as they could be in a crowded restaurant. “Cersei, stop your raving. You’re going to get wrinkles.” Jaime had meant to simply tease her to put an end to their quarrelling, but it was clearly the wrong thing to say. 

She nearly pulled her hand away, but Jaime quickly pinned it beneath his own. “Let me go.”

“Never.” Jaime replied so quickly it was as if he’d been expecting her demand. In a way, he had been. “I’ll never let you go. Never.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it once more. “Even if you insist on speaking but nothing else for the rest of the day. Even if I go hoarse telling you that you’re making mountains out of nothing.” Which he likely would, but he would continue his denials until she finally believed him or found something new to fixate upon. Either possibility could take some time. 

Cersei let out a huff and though he knew this would be far from the last time that they discussed the matter, Jaime was confident that she was done arguing about it for the moment. She would bring it up later, that was certain, but she’d let them have lunch. That suited Jaime just fine. When she brought it up again, they would be alone, at home, and he would quiet her with kisses and draw sweeter sounds from her lips than accusations that he was keeping things from her. But for now, lunch. 

The waiter brought their wine, presenting it to Jaime for a taste to ensure that it met with satisfaction before being poured, but Jaime handed the sample to Cersei. “Her palate is far more discerning than mine.” Jaime explained when the waiter looked puzzled by the gesture. If Jaime hadn’t been certain before that Cersei would move to another topic, her distraction was assured now. She hated that Jaime or Father had always been treated as the decision maker while she was ignored. Briefly, Jaime wondered what happened when Cersei went out with the ladies that Father always coaxed her to spend time with. Who did waiters offer the decision to when there was no man present? Asking her now was a risk though. Not only would the question possibly stir her rage that she’s been treated differently on account of her sex, but he didn’t want to discuss the past. This was their life now. Though Jaime doubted that Cersei had any fond memories of those ladies’ lunches, he didn’t want to risk the possibility that she might recall some glimmer of a fond memory. It was far better to show her that she’d be happier here. 

“Does it meet with your approval, sweetheart?” Gods, what a rush it was to be able to call her that in front of other people. Jaime actually felt his heart race. It made him feel foolish for the quick shift in his mood, how something seemingly so small could completely change his mood, but being able to call her sweetheart in front of the waiter was enough to have him forgetting about their squabbling. It even had a subtle smile even on Cersei’s lips as she nodded her approval. Either that or she was simply pleased that Jaime had let the decision be hers. He didn’t care. If she was starting to smile, that was what mattered. 

The waiter poured them each a glass of wine and then departed. Jaime took a sip, a small one, as he was still hesitant about starting his day with wine. He then traded his wine for her hand. “It’d be more impressive if you could choose the wine yourself instead of relying on others.” Cersei took a small sip as well and then leaned back in her seat. 

Jaime’s arm instantly draped across her shoulder. He could play with her hair, the wisps of golden sunlight that he’d hoped to see draped over the pillow when he’d awoken. He’d lead by example until she was sufficiently distracted from her nagging questions. “Why pretend to know about wine when I’ve you at my side? You know much better than I. Unless you want me to bluster at the waiter until you end up with a bottle that you don’t like?” He raised his free hand as if to call the waiter back, but to his delight, Cersei reached across his chest and lowered his arm. “Alright then, I leave the wine to you, sweet Cersei.” Jaime told her with a flash of perfectly straight teeth and a raised wine glass to toast to the woman beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! A few of you might have noticed that I posted this chapter yesterday and then promptly deleted it. I wasn't happy with it, and wanted to make some tweaks until I was happier with it. I hope that you all enjoyed it <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oberyn seemed to sense Jaime’s curiosity and smirked. There was a sparkle in his eyes as he regarded Jaime, and immediately the blond steeled himself in preparation for Oberyn to play some sort of game. “Well, there will be a new dancer this evening.” His face scrunched up as if he was considering. “Although, I suppose not new to all. New to most.” His correction did not offer any clarity for Jaime. Of course the man was playing some sort of game, but before Jaime could express his dissatisfaction with the answer, Oberyn spoke again. “And there’s an investor that Monsieur Zidler does not wish us to know of, though how he thought he could keep such a secret from me of all people-” Oberyn let out a laugh and Jaime loathed the arrogance of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait on this chapter. I felt as though the last chapter wasn't my best work because I was pushing myself to update. I didn't want to do that again, but work has been exceptionally draining. I hope that you all enjoy this chapter!

“You look like you could use a drink,my friend.” Jaime felt a hand clasp the top of his shoulder and squeeze. He had to fight the urge to peel and break each of the owner’s fingers to get them off of him. It didn’t matter to Jaime that he could very much use the drink at that moment - the past several weeks with Cersei had been trying - but Jaime had no desire to share a drink with Oberyn Martell nor the degenerates (the called themselves Bohemians) that the man kept company with. Jaime did not like Oberyn Martell and steadfastly refused to acknowledge that they had anything in common despite the similarities that the man liked to claim they shared. As far as Oberyn knew, Jaime was the son of a wealthy man. This much, Jaime was willing to acknowledge they had in common. Had Oberyn simply wished to bond over having a difficult family, Jaime might not have taken such an issue with the man. But Oberyn had not stopped there. Oberyn believed that they had both turned their backs on the expectations of their respective families in the name of love. It was this that Jaime found offensive. 

Oberyn’s love for his paramour was nothing like Jaime’s love for Cersei. Jaime had yet to meet the women, but that was not for lack of trying. Apparently she’d been one of the dancers, and she’d recently had a child apparently. Oberyn had openly acknowledged that he did not know if it was his. Well, no. That wasn’t quite true. According to Oberyn, all of Ellaria’s children were his, whether they were sired by other men or not. Just as his children by other women were Ellaria’s. And he had a few. Jaime had met other dancers at the Moulin Rouge that had bourne Oberyn children. Oberyn cared for his children by Ellaria, his children by other women, Ellaria’s children by other men all the same. It baffled Jaime how at ease he was with the matter. 

Sometimes he thought about the idea of having children with Cersei. Sometimes he thought it might make her happier to have a child. Whenever he’d considered the possibility lately, he’d dismissed it. They already spent such little time together. A child would command even more of her attention. A child would take her away from him. And what if she loved it more than she loved him? A babe would take up too much of her time, her affection. If it was another man’s child that was even more intolerable. Jaime would not abide such a thing and he found it unfathomable that Oberyn could love so many children so unconditionally. Perhaps it was an antiquated view, perhaps it was some lingering remnant of Tywin’s teachings lingering in his mind, but Jaime would not have been so happily cuckolded. Cersei was his. They’d run away to flee the possibility of having to share her with Robert Baratheon. Jaime would not share her with anyone else. Ever. Therefore, rather than see the beauty in the acceptance of Ellaria and her children by Oberyn, Jaime viewed his love for Cersei as far greater than Oberyn’s love for Ellaria. 

But Jaime had not met the woman. 

Nor had Oberyn met Cersei, thank the gods. Jaime didn’t want them anywhere near each other. Things with Cersei had been difficult. Just as Jaime was waking for his shift at the Moulin Rouge, Cersei would be returning from her day out and about, too exhausted to talk much about what she’d been doing or to steal a few moments with him in their bed before he went off to work. In the few conversations that they’d had, she claimed to be working during the day. Some little theater had employed her as a chorus girl, apparently. In the few conversations that he’d tried to initiate as a prelude to getting intimate with her, she told him how much she loathed that she made her living having to please and sing as Father had always taught her. She hated that she’d run from Casterly Rock to avoid that fate only to now be performing on a grander scale. It hardly set the mood and at any rate, she was usually too exhausted to couple with him.

Earlier that evening, Jaime had made the mistake of telling her to quit. He’d promised her that his income would be enough to support them. That hadn’t pleased her. They’d argued about how bored she was during the day when all he did was sleep. She might have loathed her little chorus line, but it at least passed the time apparently. Jaime had brought up how tired she seemed all the time. That hadn’t gone over particularly well either. Cersei had pointed out that she was tired during those few hours when her day was ending and his was just starting. She’d cited her rehearsals as being exhausting, and when Jaime had claimed that she was always too tired, she’d rounded on him for supposedly only seeing value in her as a bed warmer. Admitedly, Jaime had been talking about sex (it had been what felt like ages since he’d known the bliss of being inside of her, though in actuality it had only been a week or so at most), but he hadn’t wanted Cersei to take things as she had. He hadn’t _meant_ to imply that sex was all he wanted, but while Jaime’s tongue could be sharp, Cersei saw slights in every shadow when she was in a foul temper, and for Jaime, who was far more easy going, his words were easily twisted. For all her talk about feeling whole when he was inside of her, she’d fumed at his pointing out how many times she’d denied him of late. 

It hadn’t been a pleasant way to spend his time before heading in for work, that was certain, hence the long expression that Oberyn had seen upon Jaime’s face when he’d approached approached Jaime. A sympathetic ear to vent his frustrations would not have been unwelcome, but Jaime would hardly have discussed his frustrations with Oberyn. Oberyn would not be given a view into the difficulties that his relationship with Cersei was presently undergoing. It was a challenge, to be sure, but they would get through it. They would. Jaime was sure of it. And in the meantime, he had no desire to hear Oberyn’s advice on the subject. He imagined it would involve finding a willing partner instead, someone that wouldn’t mind spending one night with him. Jaime didn’t want anyone except for Cersei. Other women only existed in comparison to Cersei. If they were blonde, their hair did not shine as brightly as Cersei’s. If they smiled, their smiles were not as sweet as Cersei’s. If they had curves, their curves did not fit against him as perfectly as Cersei’s. Jaime didn’t want other women. He wanted his sister. And he wanted Oberyn to leave him. 

“Whether I could use one or not, break is over.” Jaime replied as he turned to take him Oberyn’s appearance. He was wearing a suit that evening, one with tails and a crisp bow tie. It was similar to the one that Jaime himself wore in order to blend in with the wealthier patrons that Jaime was brought in to quietly police (though Jaime’s suit, a remnant from his days at the Rock, was finer than all but the wealthiest of patrons). It was an uncommon sight on Oberyn, though, and it made Jaime curious enough to linger in the man’s company for a few moments.  
His eyes, two perfect emeralds, scanned up Oberyn’s frame, making it clear that he was taking in the other man’s appearance. Rather than feel discomfort at Jaime’s study of him, Oberyn seemed to enjoy it. “Do you see something that you like?” the other man teased with a smirk curving his lips. 

“You decided to clean up tonight?”

Oberyn’s smirk only widened across his face. “Well, I hear that we’re to have a special guest this evening. A friend that my friends and I are quite keen to meet.” Ah, Oberyn’s friends. Jaime wouldn’t have minded them as much if Oberyn hadn’t been their leader of sorts. In some ways, they reminded him of Tyrion in his drunker, less cynical moments. The Tyrion that existed when he wasn’t trying to prove himself to Father or rather, the Tyrion that existed when he was trying to prove that Father’s disapproval did not pain him so. 

Of all the many comforts of Casterly Rock, it was only his brother that Jaime missed. Perhaps, once they were more settled, Jaime would send for him. Once Cersei was in more receptive spirits, perhaps Jaime would write to him. He had difficulty with her enough now without the addition of the brother that she despised. And Tyrion would understand. At least Jaime hoped that he would. It wasn’t as though Jaime had ever _told_ Tyrion about his relationship with Cersei, told him that it was more than mere sibling affection. In all of this, it was the only thing that had made Jaime feel guilty. 

He’d left Tyrion a note. _I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell you. One day I’ll explain. At least Father will have no choice but to declare the Rock as yours. You’ll rule it better than I could have. _It had been all that Jaime had managed at the time, and he felt a touch guilty for not thinking of Tyrion more. Tyrion had been left with no allies. Jaime’d fed him to the lions. Father would be furious with both Cersei and Jaime missing. Jaime hadn’t even warned him of the storm that would be coming. He couldn’t risk anyone finding out and stopping them. As much as Jaime wished that he could have taken Tyrion, he knew that Cersei wouldn’t have tolerated it. If Tyrion was with them, by now she would have returned to the Rock. Jaime knew that. He couldn’t have that. It had come to a choice between her and Tyrion. One day, he hoped that Tyrion would understand.__

__It was just that much harder to cope with the loss when Jaime was confronted with people whose company his little brother would enjoy. Still, just because Tyrion might have enjoyed Oberyn and his companions, Jaime still disliked the man before him. Added to that, Oberyn had mentioned other people to meet. If Oberyn had dressed in a more traditional fashion, then these guests were not simply dancers at the Moulin Rouge nor were they the usual patrons. Whatever Jaime’s feelings were about Tyrion, the Rock, about leaving Tyrion at the Rock, he was distracted by the image of Oberyn Martell wearing a suit with tails and what exactly might have prompted such an appearance. After all, if there was someone important scheduled to appear, then surely Harold would have told Jaime to pay special attention to them._ _

__“And why would you and your friends be so keen to meet this guest? Aren’t you all usually keen on the dancers?” Jaime drawled. He didn’t want to spend too much time in Oberyn’s company, but he was also curious about who this guest might be._ _

__Oberyn seemed to sense Jaime’s curiosity and smirked. There was a sparkle in his eyes as he regarded Jaime, and immediately the blond steeled himself in preparation for Oberyn to play some sort of game. “Well, there will be a new dancer this evening.” His face scrunched up as if he was considering. “Although, I suppose not new to all. New to most.” His correction did not offer any clarity for Jaime. Of course the man was playing some sort of game, but before Jaime could express his dissatisfaction with the answer, Oberyn spoke again. “And there’s an investor that Monsieur Zidler does not wish us to know of, though how he thought he could keep such a secret from me of all people-” Oberyn let out a laugh and Jaime loathed the arrogance of it._ _

__The other man shrugged his shoulders and arched a brow in a dismissive gesture. “There are times that I wish I had not turned my back on my family’s wealth. I imagine that you feel the same.” His hand clapped on Jaime’s shoulder again and Jaime had to fight the urge to pull it off. Instead, he simply stared at it until Oberyn removed it. “It’s hard. Our ladies make the sacrifice well worth it, but if we still had the wealth, we could give them the world.”_ _

__Jaime hated this even more than he’d hated Oberyn’s hand on his shoulder. They were not the same. “Women don’t want you to give them the world. They want to know that for you, there is no world but them. Even if I had my family’s wealth, how would I give Cersei the world when, for me, there is no world but her?”_ _

__While Jaime had meant the words to be cutting, reproachful, they only made Oberyn smile. “Ah, there is a poet in you, my friend! That is the spirit of the children of the revolution, as my companions would say.” The corners of Oberyn’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at Jaime. “One day, I shall have to meet this Cersei of yours.”_ _

__Over Jaime’s dead body._ _

__“But first you have to meet this investor, do you not?” What the man would be investing in, Jaime had no idea, nor did he care. He assumed that it had to do with the play that Oberyn and his friends were always going on about. If they found a fool to invest in them, then perhaps they would be out of Jaime’s hair for a bit, and he’d have fewer reminders of Tyrion hanging about the club. That would be a welcome change._ _

__If Oberyn sensed that Jaime wished to be rid of him, his face did not show it when he stepped forward. “Rightly so, my friend. And besides, my friends and I must decide where we shall woo our investor friend. We had thought to entertain him in the elephant, but we hear that it’s occupied.”_ _

__Jaime paled at the mention of the elephant. _Cersei._ Did Oberyn know that was where Cersei was? Had he already met her and he’d been toying with Jaime all this time? Did--- Jaime’s stomach suddenly sank. A new dancer. New to most. Cersei’s exhaustion over the past few weeks. No. No. Jaime didn’t want to accept it. “Are you unwell, my friend?” Oberyn asked and Jaime would have ripped the tongue from his mouth if he could. _ _

__Without a word, Jaime spun away, ignoring Oberyn’s shouts coming from behind him until they blended in with the raucous sounds of the Moulin Rouge. Cersei. Jaime had to get to Cersei. She wouldn’t have done this. She wouldn’t have done this. She wouldn’t have joined the dancers so that she could parade herself around in silly costumes for groups of men that would paw at her. She wouldn’t do that. She was meant to be his and his alone. His other half. They belonged to each other. She wouldn’t do this._ _

___Yes, she would._ the small voice in his head told him. This was exactly the sort of thing that she would do. Father had demanded that she learn to sing and please. And learn Cersei had. Her weapon was that body which Jaime longed to worship nightly, but somehow, his devotions never seemed sufficient enough to placate his goddess but for a few hours. It was exactly the sort of thing that she would do. She’d claim that it was necessary. Jaime could already hear the words that she would use in that haughty, condescending tone that he despised so much. _ _

__Still, there was a part of him which clung to his denials. It was that part of him that led him outside to the garden. There were people outside. No one was supposed to be outside. Harold had assured Jaime that the garden would not open until spring. And yet there were people in the courtyard laughing and shouting drunkenly. Cersei was a light sleeper even with her exhaustion. There was no way that she would have slept through this. Yet, Jaime’s feet still carried him to the door to the elephant, still carried him up the stairs to the bedroom where he prayed he would find his sister sleeping soundly, her golden hair splayed across the pillow like rays of sunlight even in the dark of night._ _

__But, as Jaime had feared, their bed was empty except for the twisted, dishevelled sheets._ _

__Jaime walked to the bathroom, praying that he would hear Cersei on the other side of the door, but there was no one there either. He didn’t know who he was angrier with: Cersei for doing this behind his back or Oberyn for being so smug about it whilst dangling scraps of knowledge in front of Jaime’s jaws. He turned on a heel, not knowing which of them he intended to confront. The door to the elephant slammed behind Jaime and the sound frightened the dancer who was entangled with one of the patrons on the side of the elephant. The man called after Jaime, though he might have been shouting at the wind for all the attention that Jaime paid him as he stormed back into the Moulin Rouge._ _

__The place was eerily quiet. It was as if a hush had fallen over the darkened dance hall. All eyes were cast upward, fixed on a spot. Jaime steeled himself, a knot in the pit of his stomach as he looked up at the woman._ _

__There was a woman on a swing, with legs that seemed not to end, but they were not the porcelain of his sister’s skin, but rather several shades warmer. Her hair was brown not blonde, though it curled over her shoulders prettily. Her face was perhaps not as beautiful as Cersei’s but there was something enthralling about the woman as she sparkled, high above them. She had the attention of everyone in the room and held it, smiling down at all of them before she began her song to the delight of the crowd. Jaime heard someone whisper to their friends, something about “the Sparkling Diamond” which Jaime assumed was a reference to the song that the woman was singing._ _

___New to most._ It hadn’t been a reference to Cersei at all. Rather it seemed that the woman circling above the crowd was none other than Ellaria, Oberyn’s paramour, making her grand return to the Moulin Rouge. But Jaime could hardly be relieved. If Oberyn had not been referring to Cersei, if Cersei had not joined the Moulin Rouge’s dancers, then where was she?_ _


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the voices suggested abandoning the effort. _Yes_ , Cersei thought, _abandon this_ , but she immediately hated herself for thinking that way, for being so cowardly. She was a lion, a daughter of the Rock. She would not cower in the corner and wait for the robbers to discover her and do their will. Tywin Lannister’s shadow may not have extended to Paris to protect her, but she was still his daughter and she would not crumble in the face of fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you are all staying as safe as you possibly can given everything that is going on! Here's a new chapter to hopefully pass some time if you feel as though you're stuck inside. Stay inside, if not for your own sake, for the sake of the overwhelmed healthcare workers and for the sake of those that might struggle fighting off the virus!

In her dream, they were back at the Rock. It was as though she could feel the sun warming her skin as, in the dream, Cersei stretched along the shore. The tide occasionally brushed her toes as Jaime babbled about a honeymoon beside her. “Why would I ever want to leave here?” In her dreams, she had everything that she wanted. Jaime was her husband and they had the Rock to rule as they pleased. Lord and Lady Lannister. 

But a dim rattling of the door woke Cersei from her dream and reminded her that she was not at the Rock and Jaime was not her husband. Instead of the sun warming her skin, Cersei felt only the aches and pains from the day’s rehearsals. Aches and pains and now an icy rush of fear as her ears managed to make out the sound of someone tinkering away with the lock of the door. Voices were whispering complaints about how usually the door wasn’t locked, and another voice kept assuring the others that they would get it open. 

Cersei quickly snatched up a green silk robe to cover the matching nightgown that she’d worn to bed and her eyes scanned the room, looking first for Jaime to protect her. When she remembered that he was gone, she searched instead for something that she could use to defend herself. Judging by the sound on the other side of the door, there was more than one person which concerned her. Cersei had never felt more vulnerable than she did in that moment. She had no guards to protect her. No Jaime even. All she had was a bedside lamp which felt wholly inadequate to the task. 

One of the voices suggested abandoning the effort. _Yes_ , Cersei thought, _abandon this_ , but she immediately hated herself for thinking that way, for being so cowardly. She was a lion, a daughter of the Rock. She would not cower in the corner and wait for the robbers to discover her and do their will. Tywin Lannister’s shadow may not have extended to Paris to protect her, but she was still his daughter and she would not crumble in the face of fear. 

With her mind made up, Cersei knotted her dressing gown and threw open the door to greet the would be intruders. A group of three men hunched in front of the now open door. One of them was decent looking enough, especially with his suit on, but one of the others reminded Cersei of the playwright of the production that she’d been cast in, right down to his faded brown suit and glasses. They looked up at her in astonishment and were treated to Cersei’s haughty expression greeting them. Though she wore no crown, she was every inch a queen. She’d been determined not to let them see her fear, but the way that the men looked up at her in such wonder nearly had her mask cracking with Cersei’s own surprise. “You woke me.” Was all she said, still clinging to her pretenses until she could get a better idea of the threat that these men posed to her. Although, the way that they looked up at her with almost reverence was beginning to suggest that they were perhaps no threat at all. 

The tallest of the men, the one that carried himself well in his suit, recovered first. “I am sorry, beautiful lady.” He removed his hat from his head and held it to his chest as if the gesture would further enforce the sincerity that was written across his features. “Normally not much sleeping goes on inside of the elephant! We hope that we did not disturb you or your guest. Is the Duke in there? We were told he was going to meet with- ” The man cut himself off immediately upon Cersei raising her hand and though Cersei disliked that he assumed that she was one of the girls that worked at the Moulin Rouge, she did enjoy the fact that even when this man thought her a whore, he still stopped speaking the moment that she wished it. Ordinarily, men insisted on talking, insisted on making their point as if it was the only one of value.

“I do not work for Harold.” Though he’d extended an open invitation to her to do so. Cersei remembered meeting the man, who tried far too hard to appear charming. She’d wanted to know about this place and since Jaime had offered her no answers, she’d sought them on her own. The foolish sweeper had thought that she was there to audition. Harold had too, though he’d also been concerned that she could have been some patron’s angry wife by the way that she’d been dressed. Cersei had been willing to audition until she’d learned the part that she would have to play. “ _”If I was willing to let men paw at me for the sake of pretty dresses and precious gems, I’d never have left my home. By now I’d have more jewels and gowns than all of your girls combined.”_ Cersei had told him. She had no desire to be a can-can dancer, but she had been intrigued enough to seek out a part in a play. She would not be one of Harold’s gems, but she had rather liked the idea of being a real actress. She could be a star. She could have a captive audience, a room full of people focused on every word coming out of her mouth. Unfortunately, stardom was not as easily won as Cersei had expected. Apparently lying to the world was not considered experience enough to land a leading role, so Cersei was relegated to the chorus line, despite having more talent than the so-called star. They would open in two weeks and the woman still couldn’t get her lines straight, but that hardly mattered now. 

The man that was actually before her now was the one that she had to focus on. Well, him and his companions that had been trying to force their way into Cersei’s new home. If possible, they looked even more shocked by her statement. “Don’t work for Harold? But, but you’re in the elephant.” the shortest of them stammered. “You’re in the elephant! And---and-” he gestured at Cersei’s body (the robe having done little to shield the shape of her curves from their eyes) with both hands. “Look at you!” 

“I seem to be short a mirror at the moment.” Cersei retorted coolly. She was used to comments praising her looks, though usually they were not delivered with such incredulity. She tossed her long, golden hair over her shoulder and was ready to shoot the men an icy glare, but the short man grabbed her hand and pulled her back inside into the elephant. 

He dragged her before the mirror as one of the other men turned on the lights. Had Cersei not been so stunned by their actions, she’d have scolded them, but instead, she was left to stand in shock looking at her own reflection. “You are beautiful!” the man shouted excitedly. “Look at you! Look at you! You’re beautiful.”

“Yes. I’m aware!” Cersei replied, regaining some of her composure. “And I do not recall inviting you inside! Get. Out!” Her tone was sharp, it was the tone that ordinarily sent servants scrambling, but the men remained undaunted and instead surrounded her in front of the mirror.

They looked at her with an awe that Cersei could scarcely recall seeing on anyone’s face, even Jaime’s. In a way, it was nice. She was used to the hungry looks of men, the way their eyes lingered, but this man seemed excited by her beauty in a whole new way, a way that was almost childlike. “You have a face made to inspire a thousand poems! You are the face of the Children of the Revolution!” The short man’s excitement was contagious and Cersei nearly smiled before she caught herself. “Oh! Oh! You almost smiled! Dagos! Dagos she almost smiled!” The men seemed so excited by the prospect that it was getting harder to fight the urge to actually grace them with a smile. “Dagos! You must use her as inspiration for the play! You must write her a part!”

That caught Cersei’s interest, though she was certain to keep her expression as neutral as she could. Thus far in her auditions her face had been a so-called asset, earning her offers to give her _acting_ experience on the director’s couch before casting her in a real part. Her refusal had cost her several shows altogether, though she’d finally found one that saw the value in simply having her face on the stage as if her beauty would distract from the way that the lead slurred her way through the part. But these men before her now did not ask her to lie back and play pretend. Instead, they looked at her as if they were already the captive audience that she longed to have cheering her name so loudly that it would shake the distant foundations of the Rock, louder than anyone had ever cheered for Tywin Lannister. “Tell me more about this play.”

Her answer seemed to make the man even more enamored with her. The third man, the one that looked like a writer, stepped forward and smiled at her. “It’s going to be revolutionary!”

“A true bohemian masterpiece!” the well dressed man chimed in. 

“It’s about love!” the shortest of the trio added. “It’s about truth! Beauty! FREEDOM!” He seemed as delighted with himself and quickly pulled a flask from his breast pocket as well as four small collapsible tin shooters. Cersei imagined that he was planning to take a drink in honor of each of the ideals that he’d just espoused, but instead he handed one to each of them in turn. A green liquid sloshed inside the glass as Cersei accepted it. “Freedom!” 

“Beauty!” the well-dressed man held his glass forward to meet his companion’s in toast.

The third man joined them, shouting “Truth!”

And then it was clearly Cersei’s turn. She eyed the disheveled sheets and the half unpacked bags which were strewn around the room. Jaime’d eaten the fruit that she’d left out for him as well, and Cersei spied a note that she’d missed in her haste to get dressed to meet the intruders who it seemed were not so frightening after all. They all looked at her expectantly, but their only expectation of her was that she join them in a toast. That was easily done, especially when she could already guess what her line was to be. “Love.” The sentiment earned her a cheer from the men before they down the green liquid. It tasted of licorice and burned Cersei’s throat on the way down, unlike anything that she had tasted before. It nearly made her choke, but she refused to be seen as weak now. 

Still, the well-dressed man seemed to catch something of her discomfort in her eyes. “Tremond! You fool! Beautiful lady, we should not have had you drinking out of something that has been in this heathen’s coat pocket! Come inside, we will teach you the proper way to enjoy absinthe!” Cersei’s eyes flickered to the shortest of them men, deducing him to be Tremond. That made Dagos the man in the brown suit, and the well-dressed one was of yet unnamed. 

“I told you already. I am not one of those dancers. Why should I go inside there?” Although perhaps it could be fun. She could slip inside and go and find Jaime. Cersei may not have been one of the dancers, but perhaps pretending to be for a moment could be a bit of fun. She’d been exhausted of late, and he’d been keeping secrets. If she confronted him in the Moulin Rouge, where he could not deny it, she imagined that she could coax a bit of grovelling from him instead of the stubbornness that had been keeping their bed cold of late. That thought made up her mind before she could even listen to any of the reasons offered up by the gentlemen that had surrounded her. “Out! So that I can get dressed!” 

Cersei half expected them to protest, but they filed out with only their excitement that she was coming along. She changed quickly into one of the dresses that she’d brought from the Rock with her. Like her nightgown, this dress was also silk, though it was crimson and had a bustle to the back, making it clearly more formal attire. She quickly pulled her hair into a twist, but took care not to put in many pins that would hinder her brother once he’d groveled enough that she would permit him to grab her by the hair and kiss her. Cersei didn’t bother with rouge, trusting that the strange drink would have given her enough of a flush already. 

When she exited the elephant to rejoin the men, she knew that she had been correct. If possible, they looked even more awed by her now. “So tell me about this play.” Not that she was particularly interested, but it would pass the time until she found Jaime. Unfortunately, Cersei underestimated just how passionate Tremond, Dagos, and their other friend were about this play, which either had no plot at all, or needed some extreme edits to make it coherent. They chattered endlessly, each cutting each other off as they led Cersei up to one of the boxes that overlooked the dancefloor. 

“I’ll go get drinks!” Tremond shouted only moments after they’d arrived in the box. 

“So let me guess, you play the lead?” Cersei asked, turning to the well-dressed man. He nodded once in response and then struck a pose, but Cersei had already turned her attention to the brown-suited man, Dagos. “And you write the thing.” 

He shook his head, but before he could speak, a new voice joined them. “My dear friend Dagos writes the music, I write the lyrics and the script.”

Cersei turned her attention toward the entrance to the box to see a handsome man, better dressed than any she’d seen thus far, walking to the seat beside her. “Would that be why your friends struggled so greatly in trying to explain the plot? Is the issue that you cannot express your vision or is the problem that they cannot grasp it?”

Her question drew a laugh from him. “Your candor reminds me of my sister, but your face, your face I think that I have seen somewhere else before.”

“Your dreams, I suppose.” Cersei retorted. She’d deflated somewhat. She’d been enjoying the devotion of the others that had come without the entitlement to her body that most men had. This one had rather spoiled her mood, even if he was one of the better looking men that she’d seen in some time. 

“No, not my dreams, though I have seen that expression before. If I did not know better, I would say that the two of you were twins, but if you are who I think that you are, then I can see why a man might wish to throw away anything and everything to be in your arms. Though, _Cersei_ -” The use of her name caught her off guard. She hid her surprise quickly as Oberyn continued, clearly taking her reaction, however small it was, as confirmation of his assumption, “-the look on Jaime’s face of late suggests that it may have been some time since he enjoyed the warmth of your arms.”

Cersei stood up abruptly, no longer interested in the play nor interested in giving Jaime the opportunity to beg for her forgiveness if he was going around discussing her with other men like she was some tavern wench that he’d taken. Unfortunately, Tremond with his armful of drinks appeared to block her dramatic exit. “Shush! You’re going to miss her!” he whispered as the light began to lower. The only light in the room came from a spotlight directed on a woman in the center of the room. She was raised high above the crowd on a swing, waiting for the room to fall into complete silence before she began to sing. Of far more interest than the girl, was one of the faces caught in the spotlight’s glow on the floor. Jaime was there, staring up at the woman. Jealousy burned in the pit of Cersei’s stomach and she knew that her brother could feel the heat of her stare for his face turned, and Jaime looked precisely in her direction as the rest of the light in the room started to warm back up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you all! Seriously, do what you can to stay inside and slow the spread. I am still going to work every day unfortunately, so I don't know when the next chapter will be, but I hope to get back to getting updates out more quickly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime’s eyes shot daggers toward Oberyn’s hand where it held Cersei’s wrist until she tugged it free. She used her newly freed arm to gesture to the table, though it could hardly be called that as it was barely a foot off of the ground and the others were seated on pillows on the floor around it. Whereas Oberyn had completely misinterpreted her movements and ascribed to them intentions that Cersei did not share, her twin knew immediately what she wanted. Their relationship had been strained of late, but still, Jaime knew her in ways that no other person ever possibly could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG (and is so short)! My personal life has been a rough ride of late so inspiration to write has been slow to come, unfortunately. I hope that you guys enjoy this chapter. Exciting things are coming! I did not have anyone beta read this, so if there are messages, just let me live.

It was as if the world slowed down as Cersei watched Jaime. The crowd around him surged forward as the girl on the swing was lowered to the center of the dance floor, but Jaime didn’t rush with them. Cersei watched him, her expression stony but for her eyes which were alight with anger that she’d caught him staring at the other woman. And Jaime could feel her anger, she knew it. He rushed forward, no doubt to try to placate her with kisses or to otherwise drive the anger from her with his cock. 

Oberyn, though Cersei did not yet know that that was his name, whispered something in her ear. Not that she heard him. She cared about Jaime, not the man beside her. He could whisper in her ear all he liked, but he was not Jaime. Where Jaime’s beard was soft (thanks to the beard oil that Cersei had gotten him one year for his birthday and convinced him to keep using), this man’s hair felt far too rough against her skin. 

Cersei’s hand raised to swat the man away, and he obeyed the moment that he followed the direction of her gaze to see Jaime growing increasingly frustrated and tense as he battled his way through the crowd. His desperation was evident, even from Cersei’s perch high above the dance floor. It was some comfort to see him so frantic as he pushed his way against the surge of patrons who were eagerly swarming the dance floor as the singer’s swing descended. 

Eventually, Cersei’s gaze could track Jaime no further as he disappeared beneath the balcony. She intended to leave the box, to punish Jaime by making him chase her, but Oberyn grabbed her arm. “Make him come to you.” he said, clearly misinterpreting what Cersei meant to do. Her lips pulled back in a snarl, ready to correct the man for daring to give her, of all people, a lesson in how to handle a man, on how to entice and tantalize a man. Unfortunately Jaime arrived in the doorway before she got the chance.

He was out of breath, as if he’d taken the stairs two at a time the way he had when they would race around Casterly Rock as children. Jaime had hit his growth spurt sooner than she had and he had never missed an opportunity to use his longer legs to his advantage, even if it had left him somewhat winded. Winning was what mattered to him when Cersei’s kisses were the prize. 

His arrival had drawn the attention of the men in the box away from the dancing girl and on to the twins in a way that Oberyn’s attention on Cersei had not. They seemed tense, as if waiting for something to happen. All except for Oberyn, that was. Rather than seeming anxious, Oberyn seemed amused. “It seems that I have met your Cersei, my friend. How fitting that I meet your Cersei on the same night that you can meet my Ellaria!” Oberyn still held Cersei’s arm as he spoke and it discomforted her as much as his reference to her as being _Jaime’s_ Cersei. Though she and Jaime belonged together, she did not belong _to_ Jaime as if she was his property.

Jaime’s eyes shot daggers toward Oberyn’s hand where it held Cersei’s wrist until she tugged it free. She used her newly freed arm to gesture to the table, though it could hardly be called that as it was barely a foot off of the ground and the others were seated on pillows on the floor around it. Whereas Oberyn had completely misinterpreted her movements and ascribed to them intentions that Cersei did not share, her twin knew immediately what she wanted. Their relationship had been strained of late, but still, Jaime knew her in ways that no other person ever possibly could. 

Jaime tossed a small bag of gold on the table. “Drinks are on Cas--” she stopped as Jaime’s eyes met hers in warning. Perhaps the absinthe had hit her harder than she’d first realized, but it did not knock her back enough that she could not recover from her slight mishap. “-sandra, the Greek seer. Since her prophecies are more clear than the plot of this play that you’ve all been mentioning.” It was a clean recovery to all but those who knew her best, to all but Jaime. At least Cersei assumed that it was given the way that the men scuttled off eagerly, focused more on the coin in their hands than in giving her any sort of second look. 

Even Oberyn left with them, though admittedly, the man’s stride possessed more swagger than scuttle. And naturally, he had to speak once more before he departed. “If the two of you ever feel as though the thrill of your flight has waned thin and you’re in need of spicing things up, I’m certain that Ellaria or I _or both_ -” he laughed at that, “- would be only too happy to join you.” 

Anger flared in the eyes of both twins, but Jaime was closer. His hand was around Oberyn’s throat before venomous words could pool on Cersei’s tongue. Oberyn’s back was forced into the wall a second later. Yet, though Jaime’s eyes screamed with murderous intent, there was a cocky smile on his lips. Cersei wasn’t sure that she’d seen that smile since they’d left Casterly Rock. He leaned in and murmured something that Cersei could not hear over the roar of the crowd behind her, but it made Oberyn smirk. Not that the expression lasted long. As Cersei stepped forward, the crowd behind her went from a roar to a strangled gasp and the singing, which Cersei hadn’t been paying much mind to, had stopped. That, more than anything that Jaime had said, perturbed Oberyn. With the surprise at the change in the noise level, Oberyn was able to push Jaime away and then push past Cersei to hastily reach the bannister and look out at the scene below. Both Cersei and Jaime joined him in time to see the singer, seemingly having collapsed, and being carted away by a large man wearing white trousers and matching suspenders over his bare chest. Without another word to either Jaime or Cersei, Oberyn left the balcony in a rush, finally leaving the twins alone. Neither of them cared anything about the woman, yet for a moment, they both stared and watched the confusion that had taken root in the aftermath of the incident.

“I was afraid that you were one of the dancers.” Jaime confessed, his voice low, not that anyone would have heard them with Harold’s shouting to get the band playing once more.

“Gods, you really are the stupidest Lannister.” Cersei sneered before moving from the railing to pick up a glass of wine from the table. The absinthe may have hit her stronger than she had initially realized, but wine was a comforting and familiar friend that would not deceive her with its potency. 

Jaime went to speak again, but she cut him off. “Jaime, don’t you think that you would have seen me here? Even if I threw my skirts up-” she gestured with her wine glass to one of the dancers who had kicked her leg up and held her skirt over her head, obscuring her face, “- I daresay you’d recognize me from between my legs alone.”

“I’m not sure. It’s been so long since I’ve been there; I could use a refresher.” Jaime answered quickly as he advanced toward Cersei. 

She was not amused by his response, but, after a brief, half-hearted attempt to swat him away, she let him pull her back flush against his chest. “It hasn’t been that long.You know how tired I’ve been.” Cersei hated this conversation. Jaime’s jealousy was exhausting. Didn’t he understand that she didn’t want anyone else to touch her? The whole reason that they’d run away was so that Cersei would not be forced to allow anyone else to have her. “How many times are you going to accuse me of being like them?” Her chin jutted forward, in the direction of one of the Moulin Rouge dancers, though of course, Cersei hardly meant to refer to the dancers. In her mind, the dancers were like every woman: taught to please and sing and make themselves palatable for men. Though Cersei did not know any of the dancers well, she respected that at least they were honest about their work. Really, the honesty and titles were the only thing that set them apart from the women that Cersei had grown up with, the women that Tywin had expected Cersei to emulate. 

“It has been long. And I still don’t understand why you don’t quit this other thing if it so exhausts you.” Jaime’s hand had made its way to her breast to squeeze.

Cersei had intended on luring him into some game of hide and seek that would lead to this, but she wasn’t sure that she was still in the mood, especially if Jaime was going to act like she should merely exist to spread her legs whenever it pleased him. He was going to have to work harder to convince her that she should allow him to have her. “Because I enjoy it. It’s a real theater, not whatever this is.” she gestured around to the Moulin Rouge with her wine glass. “You really thought I would work here? If I wanted to let old men paw at me, I’d have married one of Father’s friends.”

Jaime’s hold on her tightened as she mentioned their father’s friends and Cersei tried to throw him off of her. “I’d have killed them before they could lay a hand on you.” he whispered. “I’d kill everyone until you and I are the only ones left in this world.” he murmured before nipping at her ear and tugging at her earlobe with his teeth. He’d made similar promises to her before, but that didn’t mean that Cersei enjoyed hearing them any less. 

She stopped struggling against him and let him walk her over to the couch. “It’s been so long, Cersei.” Jaime repeated. His fist clenched around the silk of her dress covering her stomach, and his lips moved to kiss the side of her cheek. Though Cersei hadn’t decided yet whether he’d done enough to let him have her, the odds were swiftly turning in his favor with every caress of his hands, every whisper of his lips. 

His hand traveled further down her leg and started pulling at the silk to raise the hem up. The fabric was bunched in his fist and the hem was at her knee when she covered his hand with hers. They were used to stealing moments together, from back when they’d had to shield their affair from their father. There was a thrill to sneaking away, to nearly getting caught at any moment. That fact worked to Jaime’s advantage. He gently pushed her on to one of the larger of the cushions on the floor. “No wall?” Cersei asked, a brow raised. 

Her brother flashed a wicked grin at her question. “No wall. Wall wouldn’t be hidden by the edge of the balcony.” Jaime’s head tilted to indicate the waist high wall that stood at the end of the balcony. He looked down at her, taking in the swell of her breasts, barely contained in the silk of her gown and Cersei could see the lust stirring in his eyes. “I remember the last time you wore this. It was that awful gala with Aerys. I wanted to rip it off you the moment that I saw you in it." And Cersei assumed that he was asking her for her permission to do so now. He wasn’t in the habit of doing that, but after Leaving Cersei to cling to scraps of fabric as she made her way back to her own rooms without being seen one too many times, she’d given him the sort of tongue lashing that had left him knowing to ask before tearing her clothes off. 

“And you were such a good boy, restraining yourself.” Cersei told him, her arms coming to wrap around his neck. If they’d been in their rooms, she might have let him rip it, but Cersei had no desire to walk back to the elephant in tattered clothing, lest some man feel entitled to take her as roughly as it would have appeared she’d been taken. 

Cersei ran her fingers through Jaime’s hair and her groaned softly. Then, he lowered his body on top of hers as he started to kiss her neck. Without Jaime’s body finally blocking her view, she finally saw the figure with silvery-blonde hair leaning around the corner from the balcony next to them. “What? Am I meant to pay Harold before I watch you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When can I meet the girl?” the Duke asked, his eyes wandering to the various delicacies that they passed on their way to the private box. Each woman was more beautiful than the next. The only ugliness was on some of the men, men that looked like his father. The Duke pushed those memories from his mind. His father had cost them much, but the throne was rightfully his and all others would fall in line; they would cheer his name when he returned home with his Diamond at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME! I decided that I'd give you all a little gift to spread the love around. I hope that you enjoy this chapter!

The Duke

“My dear Duke!” Zidler’s voice boomed and he rushed to extend his hand for the silver-haired man to shake. This, now _this_ , was the type of greeting that the young man had expected! Harold Zidler was practically falling over himself in his excitement to come forward and worship. _As he should be._ And there was cheering! Of course, it wasn’t for him, not that the Duke realized this fact. All the young Duke heard were stamps and adulation as he’d arrived. It was how every theater ought to have greeted him after he’d been willing to grace their dusty halls with his patronage. He deserved cheers. Didn’t they know what he was contemplating doing for them? Didn’t they know how generous he was about to be? They should have been worshipping him! But instead, the theaters had offered a line of aging sopranos and young ingenues, none of whom were truly worthy of him. There had only been one that had really been worthy of his attention, but the Duke had only managed to glimpse her as she was storming out as if possessed by wildfire. His father had shown him the stuff when he’d been but a boy, and he’d seen the flames reflected in the girl’s eyes when he’d commanded her to stop. But she’d disobeyed him! Spinning on her heel to leave, but as she went, the Duke could feel the dragon stirring within him. He’d taken the chorus girl that had been offered in her place, but he had not promised his patronage. It was just another in a long list of disappointments.

But the Moulin Rouge did not disappoint him. The Moulin Rouge greeted him with applause and the most beautiful women that he’d ever seen, apart from the wildfire woman, but he would push her out of his mind, as much as he could, though he’d been unsuccessful in doing so thus far. He tried to tell himself that he had no use for emeralds when Zidler promised him the Sparkling Diamond of the Moulin Rouge.

The Duke was eager to meet the woman, especially when he could hear many of the men assembled whispering how excited they were for her return. Many of them were noblemen, and they were busy coveting a prize that would be for the Duke to enjoy all on his own. They could not have her. She was his. That was how it ought to be. Men ought to envy him. Ought to envy him for what was or would belong to him. Finally, he was in a place where it felt that the natural order had been restored. He would lend his name and his patronage here. And he would have her. The Sparkling Diamond. The greatest jewel of the Moulin Rouge, and indeed, all of Paris if truth was to be told. 

Still, though the Duke told himself to focus on his diamond and ignore the emerald that nagged on the corners of his thoughts. Still, wouldn’t it have been fun if his elusive blonde turned out to be his diamond? She would prove herself to be more than wildfire and emeralds, but rather the white hot of diamonds, the white hot of the Targaryen line. They could be silver and gold, though of course, in this instance, the silver would be all the more precious. 

She’d had a queen’s bearing when she’d glided away from him in that alley, even though she’d scoffed and feigned derision. Only a queen was capable of such bearing. The Duke was in need of a queen. But first, first he would make his diamond a true star in the sky. If men admired her now, lusted for her now, he could only imagine how they would hunger for her once she belonged to the Duke alone. Once she was draped in all of the luxuries which he would provide to her. He would make her a star.

It would take money though. As Zidler led the Duke through the Moulin Rouge, the other man made no explicit mention of such a thing, but it was the hidden undercurrent of the conversation. Zidler spoke of their _humble_ show. It was false modesty, meant to try to coerce the Duke into shelling out more money on the production. Still, it was as much as the Duke would have spent elsewhere, with far less in terms of a reward he expected if he were to invest elsewhere. What good was a simpering soprano in his bed, too timid and shy to be any real fun? No, the Sparkling Diamond of the Moulin Rouge would be his match in every way. 

“When can I meet the girl?” the Duke asked, his eyes wandering to the various delicacies that they passed on their way to the private box. Each woman was more beautiful than the next. The only ugliness was on some of the men, men that looked like his father. The Duke pushed those memories from his mind. His father had cost them much, but the throne was rightfully his and all others would fall in line; they would cheer his name when he returned home with his Diamond at his side.

Zidler tittered something about meeting the girl after her number and then continued to offer his chorus of a thousand praises. Still, the Duke listened in, even as he moved to a large harp in the corner of the balcony. Though he was trying to appear aloof, internally he was lapping up every word of adulation that was offered. This was how he thought that he should have been treated all along. He ought to be adored, ought to be worshipped, and it was high time that someone recognized that. 

As Zidler gushed on, the Duke’s slender fingers plucked at a few of the harp strings. “That is most beautiful, my dear Duke!” the red haired man gushed. The Duke wasn’t sure how Zidler had managed to even hear a note at all over the band below and the cheering crowd, but he accepted the praise with a gracious smile, one that he had been taught (though no one had dared to tell him that it looked more maniacal than gracious). The Duke plucked a few more chords before turning to Zidler, but the room darkened before the Duke could speak. 

“It’s starting!” Zidler said in a dramatically loud stage whisper. Sure enough, moments later a spot light illuminated a figure. She was beautiful, perhaps not as beautiful as some of the others that the Duke had seen on his way in, but she was still stunning. Her long legs reminded him of his late brother’s wife. Of course, the wife was dead too, the Duke expected. His father, his brother, both dead, but the Duke would rise and reclaim what had been left behind. It would start here, here with this girl. 

The Duke watched her intently, noting the way that the lights shone off of her costume. He would give her real diamonds to catch the light. And he would rid her of the top hat that she wore. But otherwise, she pleased him. Though there was something missing. Sure, men stared up at her in awe as she swooped over the crowd, but the Duke found himself disappointed. There were other dancers of the Moulin Rouge that had been more beautiful than this supposed diamond. And there was his emerald. Still, there was a certain magnetism about the brunette, something that drew the Duke in, so much so that his fingers tightly gripped the railing of the balcony. He watched, enthralled, until the woman seemed to gasp for breath. 

At first, the Duke thought that it was merely for the drama; after all, the gasping had everyone on the edge of their seats, and the Duke had in fact risen from his. Yet, rather than indulge in a surge of vocals, the diamond slipped from the swing that served as her throne. She fell into the crowd, caught by an unexpected reveller. Of course, the Duke had already lost interest by then. Rage bloomed on his cheeks and he rounded on Zidler who, to his credit, looked as astonished as anyone. “You expect me to pay for damaged goods?” the Duke demanded. His manservant stood at attention, ready to strike should the Dragon command, and Zidler stammered through his excuses. 

“She was, eh, NERVOUS! Nervous, about meeting someone of your stature, my dear Duke.” Zidler stammered as he attempted to cover. It was not enough, not yet, and Zidler seemed to sense that. “She was frightened. Frightened of your magnificence. We have never had someone of your, eh, calibar, here at the Moulin Rouge. She worships you! She is frightened of displeasing you!” Zidler gushed, seeming to be trying to find any means to keep the Duke’s interest. It was working. The flattery pleased the Duke enough to calm him. Of course the girl was nervous about meeting someone of his stature, he told himself. That was to be understandable. He would make her a queen if she pleased him, and naturally that evoked some nerves. Still, the Duke had some misgivings. His brother had had a sickly would-be queen, did the Duke wish to duplicate that pattern? Of course not. He needed a true queen. 

Once more, his thoughts turned to his emerald. She had not fallen from nerves or weakness, but had a sort of fire to her. No doubt, the imbeciles at that theater had told her something that they oughtn’t have to prompt her derision. Her nerves didn’t leave her gasping for breath and falling into the crowd. 

“My dear, Duke,.” Zidler said, pulling him from his thoughts of the emerald. “I am certain that she will be fine in a moment. Please, I will bring her here to you!” the Duke turned to finally look at Zidler, but something else caught his eye as he did so. From his position at the end of his own box, he could see into the box beside them. He muttered something to Zidler about fetching the girl, but his interest was far more captivated by the scene unfolding before him. His emerald was there.

There was a man with her, his emerald. He was not unattractive, but the Duke regarded himself as better looking. His hands were all over the emerald, roaming her freely. If she protested, the Duke could not hear it over the din of the music that had resumed once the diamond had been carted away. The man pushed her dress up, giving a delicious view of long, slender legs. They were much prettier wrapped around this man than they had been walking away from the Duke, but they’d be prettier still if it was him that they were wrapped around. Still, there was something about the way that the silk (and the Duke knew real silk when he saw it) contrasted with their hair that drew him closer to the corner to get a better view. There was an intimacy between them that seemed to be more than that of a patron and his artist, but the Duke did not dwell on it much. He was too engrossed by the way that their bodies seemed to fit together so perfectly, the way that the woman’s face relaxed when the man started to kiss her neck. He could feel himself growing hard as he watched them, until finally, the woman’s eyes met his and she let out a strangled noise of surprise. 

There was fear there too, in her eyes. It pleased the Duke more than he’d have cared to have admitted. A sly grin spread over his features. “What? Am I meant to pay Harold before I watch you?” he laughed. He wouldn’t pay to watch her with another man, but it would be helpful to know what her rate was. “Willem.” He signaled his man servant who then exited their box and then re-emerged in the box that the emerald occupied. He barred the door, keeping them from leaving. Though, after the Duke disappeared from his perch and then entered the other box, it didn’t seem that either occupant had even tried to leave. Both were now on their feet, but otherwise they did not seem to have bothered with trying to get past Willem.

The Duke stepped forward, a grin on his features as his violet eyes fixed upon his emerald. “I loved a maid, as fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair,” he sang as he stepped toward the emerald and raised her hands to his lips before she could pull away. She didn’t seem to recognize him, but that suited him just fine. “Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll double it,” he offered, staring at the way her breasts filled out the top of the dress. They were delectable. 

But his emerald grew crimson with either rage or embarrassment and the Duke disliked it greatly. The man stepped forward and grabbed him by the throat. For a moment, the Duke felt a ripple of fear. “YOU DARE TO TOUCH THE DRAGON!” the Duke roared, but fortunately for all involved, Zidler walked in.

By his nervous laugh, it was clear that he had heard some of the scuffle from outside the hall. “My dear Duke! It appears that you’ve met our newest member of our security team. I’ve been trying to convince his stunning wife to join us as well, but sadly, she has refused. Pity.” There was an odd expression on both of the pair’s faces at the word “wife”. The Duke couldn’t fathom what it meant, but he noticed that they both reached for each other as well. “She knows that our doors are always open should she change her mind,” Zidler said, all smiles as he stepped further into the box and angled his body so that he now blocked the pair from the Duke’s view. “Now, my dear Duke, let me take you to Miss Ellaria. She’s so anxious to meet someone of your stature. She apologies for her fall. Apparently the poor dear was so overwhelmed by the idea that you might think poorly of her for dancing in front of all of those men when she would have preferred to give you a private show!” Anyone else in the booth could tell that Zidler was lying, but the Duke devoured each word nodded along with Zidler as they made their exit. Of course she was nervous. Of course she was afraid that he would think poorly of her. He clung to those points and nodded along as if they were the most obvious things in the world. They helped him soothe his wounded pride and soon he was nodding along as Zidler led him out of the room and away from his emerald.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter was a little light on JC, and for that I'm sorry, but we needed to know a little bit about the Duke before we could get on with the story


End file.
